RWBY X-Wing: The Nikos Gambit
by Dinas Emrys
Summary: They are fast, gorgeous, and deadly. Hunter Squadron is pulled together from new and veteran pilots alike and commanded by the decorated Commander Adel. But before the squadron even completes their training, their base is attacked, and they are forced to into hiding behind enemy lines, fighting to try and find a way home. Starfighter AU featuring Monochrome and Greek Fire
1. Test Flight

**X-WING: The Nikos Gambit**

 **Chapter 1 – Test Flight**

Lieutenant Weiss Schnee took a steadying breath as she stared out through the open hanger, the ion engines behind her whirring to life.

Or more accurately, as her simulator pumped in the sound of twin ion engines whirring to life. The fake cockpit did its best to generate the little movements and sounds the craft made when it prepared for takeoff, but it was still just a simulation. A good one, but the engines never sounded _quite_ right.

Beyond the screens shaped to look like a fighter's viewport, computer-generated stars twinkled innocently in an ink-black sea. It looked as peaceful as space always did to her. Welcoming and free. Even the planet below, a red-orange striped gas giant orbited by four small moons, fit the tableau, looking like any other hologram of a planet from space.

Not that this was any other planet. Anyone who hadn't lived under a rock for the past decade would recognize Yavin. The site of the Rebellion's first great victory was about as well known as the massive space station destroyed in orbit.

They'd picked the _Trench Run_. Of course they had. Weiss sighed and shook her head. She should have guessed her first simulation run would be something this ... iconic.

 _The question,_ she thought as she flicked through her pre-flight checklist, _is what it's supposed to mean. Are the other pilots just showing off the Rebellion's first great victory? Or are they questioning my loyalties?_

Setting her doubts aside, Weiss checked her monitors one last time, just on the off chance the simulation had an error she needed to fix. No - her lights were green across the board.

"Leader to Grey Squadron, launch on my mark." she said, thumbing the comm system. Gripping the control stick, she gave the order to launch and gunned her thrusters. The engines screamed and she whipped out of the hanger into open space.

A series of ball-shaped fighters followed her, hexagonal wings held by the rigid pylons on their sides. Her own solar wings, three misshapen hexagons with deep grooves cut into the centers, started drawing energy from the gas giant, diverting it into her non-essential systems. The tips extended like blades around her cockpit, giving her ship the appearance of some horribly-evolved bird of prey. Smiling at the feel of the control stick in her hand, she angled down, centering the TIE Defender's laser cannons on the opposing force.

The Rebellion – _New Republic_ , she corrected herself – had never had full access to a TIE Defender before. Nicknamed the "X-wing killers," the Defenders were on the cutting edge of starfighter design, and a huge shift from the Empire's love of cheap and replaceable units. With shield generators, hyperdrives, and greater speed and maneuverability than earlier models, the fighters were state-of-the-art, and normally kept by the Imperial Navy under both figurative and literal lock and key. It was a rare honor to fly one; their pilots were hand-picked from the most experienced and talented Interceptor aces the Empire could offer. That status was something few Imperial pilots ever lived long enough to achieve.

Which was precisely why she'd worked so hard to 'commandeer' one of the advanced ships before defecting, along with a hastily-downloaded copy of a TIE Defender simulator program. It had taken weeks, but she and a Republic technician had finally managed to convert one of the Interceptor modules into a fairly serviceable Defender simulator. _A simulator I'm just_ now _getting to test._

She felt rather than saw Grey Two and Grey Three move into position on her tail, right at the lead of a squadron of TIE fighters, all of them looking down on the trench-filled, pockmarked surface of the colossal war machine bearing down on the computer-generated planet. Weiss brought her ship around to bear on the two groups of fighters currently making their way towards the space station. The lead flight shifted, its profile changing as the X-wings deployed the s-foils that gave them their name. The slower, more heavily-armed Y-wings came in behind them, using the X-wings as a shield against the waiting TIEs. It was a tried-and-true fighter tactic – the faster X-wings would engage the TIEs in a head-to-head dogfight, giving the bombers the time they needed to try and sink the simulated Death Star.

It was basic, simple, and historically accurate. It was also annoyingly overdone.

 _Still,_ she thought, bringing her sights on the lead X-wings. _It'll make for a good test run._ Weiss in their new ersatz Defender, the TIEs at her back, and the superweapon's turrets against the Rebel host. All she needed to do was keep the Rebels from blowing up the Death Star. Run down the clock, and the space station would blast Yavin 4 out of existence, and the simulation would end.

 _Does that make me Vader in this scenario?_ she wondered absently, reinforcing her bow shields and throwing whatever power she could spare to her thrusters. Her Defender whipped forward, streaking towards the Rebel forces, friendly computer-driven TIEs hot on her tail. Grey Two and Three, her AI wingmen, settled in behind her, following her orders as she led the charge. Unlike the rest of the Imperial fighters, the Defender came equipped with a shield generator – making her ship far more durable than the more disposable fighters on her tail.

"Grey Squadron, fire when ready."

The X-wings broke by pairs and spiraled out to engage her fighters. Human and AI pilots fired on each other, green and red bolts criss-crossing above the lumbering superweapon. Explosions filled the airspace over the Death Star's hull, and as ships started crashing around her, Weiss had to wonder how many of the ships fighting against her had actual pilots.

Throwing as much power as she dared to the thrusters, Weiss ripped through the chaos, jinking and juking to make herself as irritating a target as she possibly could. Shots scattered through her path, one poorly-aimed set of red lasers deflecting off her shields as she snapped onto her starboard wing and pulled up out of the chaos.

 _Gotcha._ She swooped down, firing green lasers on the nearest X-wing, and grimaced as the pilot tried to roll away and clipped the side of a turbolaser emplacement. The port s-foils shredded clean off, leaving the one-winged snubfighter spinning until it finished its descent and exploded on the station's surface.

 _Hope they're not all that easy_.

Weiss allowed herself a smile and hauled back the control stick. Her fighter pulled a snap-roll and she darted up, firing into the pack of X-wings. She landed a few shots here and there, but the maneuver was less about finding a target than it was killing time. The X-wings might be more resilient that the TIE Fighters on her side, but their sheer numbers made up for it. _Right now, I just need to keep watching for ... found it!_

There, out of the corner of her eye, was the sight she'd been waiting for. Three Y-wings, settled into a triangular formation, swooped low across the station's surface, slipping into one of the deep gouges between sections that gave the scenario its name.

She gave them some time – out of fairness, if nothing else. Vader hadn't known precisely where the bombers were headed. If she was going the play the Sith lord's part, she might as well give them the time they needed to start their run.

"Greys Two and Three, on me. Target the ones in rear."

Leaning back on the control stick, she brought her fighter up in a long, leisurely barrel roll before angling down and diving towards the Y-shaped bombers. Her two TIE escorts followed right behind, diving down into the trench as they sped up towards the fleeing bombers.

Weiss brought up her targeting computer and set her sights on the fighter in front. That was the one trying to sink the Death Star. The other two were just an extra set of shields, trying to get between her and the lead Y-wing.

The lumbering bombers started juking, trying to stay out of a missile lock as the TIEs on her sides started firing on the Y-wings. The enemy bombers fired back, using the rear guns to try to counter the more maneuverable TIEs. Weiss fired her own lasers, hammering on the bomber's shields when she could. Like everything else in the _Trench Run_ , it was a race against time – trying to hammer down the shields before the bombers got their shot to down the superweapon.

 _Let's see how you handle_ this _._

Her HUD flashed yellow, then red, and she fired her first missile. Not waiting for another lock, Weiss fired a second, this one keyed to fly straight forward and detonate when it went too far from her ship. She watched they soared out towards the bombers, numbers scrolling down on her screen as they closed in. Shunting as much power to the engines as she dared, Weiss shot forward, pumping shot after shot on the lead ship, aiming for his portside engines.

Just over a few kilometers away, the head Y-wing bounced around, hoping to lose the missile, only for it to hit one of the rear bombers, shredding it to pieces. Weiss swooped through the explosion, keeping her sights steady and firing away. The head Y-wing tried to evade her, juking up and down and finally darting to the side to escape her lasers.

And flew right into her second missile.

The explosion took out both remaining Y-wings, their shields already damaged by the pursuing TIEs. An engine from the first ship ricocheted off the trench walls and slammed into the second, hulling the bomber just as Weiss pulled up, her Defender shooting up and away. The light lit the bottom of her simulated cockpit before the two ships disintegrated completely.

Smiling to herself, Weiss glanced over at the combat reports. Half of the Rebel ships were down. The Imperial forces had more losses, but with the Death Star's full complement of fighters, they still outnumbered the Rebels eight-to-one. Her wingmen reported no major damage so far – although Two had been clipped by a piece of shrapnel and was listing slightly to the left.

A computerized message flashed on her screen from Three, and Weiss glanced down at the stations' surface. One Y-wing and an X-wing were starting a run on the Death Star's exhaust port.

Red lasers lit up her forward shields and Weiss dropped, trying to get a line on whoever was hunting her. A pair of X-wings swooped in, angling to try and cut her off before she could catch up to the bombers below.

Weiss sighed. _They really should have sent more than two._

"Grey Two and Three," she called into the comm. "Hold the fighters here. I'll take the bombers."

She rolled on her wing and got off a lucky shot at one of the Rebel ships above her, before diving back into the trench. Her escorts swooped in behind, hammering the X-wings until they had to break off pursuit and turn around to face the smaller fighters.

 _Here's hoping they can take them while I clean up this group._ Shunting more power to her forward shields, Weiss hit the accelerator. Her helmet thudded into the padded seat as she spiraled down towards the Y-wings, firing relentlessly.

The Y-wing started firing, using its rear guns to track her while they dodged shots from Weiss and the Death Star's turrets. That was the problem with the _Trench Run_ – in a normal dogfight, you could be evasive, try to get the other fighter off your tail. Here, in these passages, they didn't have anywhere to go. The X-wing's guns only faced forward, and neither of them could use their torpedoes on her if they wanted to make it to the exhaust port in time.

 _At least it makes for an easy target._ Weiss centered her sights on the X-wing and fired. Green bolts flashed and sparked along the fighter's shield. She set her fighter into a roll, bouncing around to make herself a harder target, spewing laser bolts down on the two ships.

Her HUD beeped, and Weiss looked down for the split second it took to see the target lock on the bomber. The target reticle went red, and Weiss shot another missile. _So much for that base of yours._

The torpedo flew straight and true, up until the Y-wing rolled to port and darted behind a turret. The missile slammed into it instead, sending shrapnel scattering across Weiss' shield in a cloud of sparks and gas.

 _Not bad_ , she admitted, adjusting her sights for another lock. Whoever was in the bomber knew what they were doing.

Without warning, the X-wing cut its speed, looming up in Weiss' viewscreen. _Sithspit,_ Weiss cursed. The fighter was trying to ram her from behind – even if it didn't take her out, it might slow her down long enough for the Y-wing to make it to the exhaust port.

 _Ten seconds to the exhaust port. So, dodge and lose the bomber, or ... dammit._

Weiss threw as much power as she could to her rear shields then yanked back on the control stick. Her fighter bobbed up before dropping back down, neatly leaping over the X-wing. She didn't waste any time. Juking around like a fish on a line, Weiss fired everything she had at the bomber in front, hammering the slower craft's shields.

Her cockpit shook, a klaxon blaring as the computer tried to warn her of some new mechanical problem. She glanced down at the readout - her rear shields were nearly gone.

 _And of course the X-wing happens to be a good shot._ Weiss swore under her breath.

The computer made the sound for a targeting lock, and Weiss fired without thinking. She just needed to take the bomber out. If she could do that-

She cheered when the missile slammed into the Y-wing's aft shields. A bright explosion lit the trench for an instant before it cleared. Blinking, Weiss scanned for any trace of the bomber, and swore. It was still there. Smoke trailed from the Y-wing's engines as the ship trembled and shook, but it held together, limping forward and splashing laser bolts off her forward shields.

Then with a slow, painful lurch, it pulled up, the bright blue proton torpedo flashing between it and the space station's surface.

Weiss didn't have time to see if the torpedo hit its mark. Teeth bared, she floored the accelerator. She was done. So, completely done. _Whoever this is, they're good, and they're going to pay dearly for that._

She pulled up out of the trench and broke left. A snap-roll took her Defender up onto its starboard wing as she yanked the ship around, her lasers stabbing out at the X-wing as it sailed up out of the trench behind her.

Weiss saw the flash, knew she hit something, and rolled ninety degrees to bring the Y-wing back under her guns. She dove, then brought herself up in a barrel roll, spewing lasers at the bomber's belly. _You're not getting away this time!_

Her ship rocked, and the alarms sounded again. Lights flashed, and Weiss punched the button to silence the alarms. Her HUD flashed – her port engine was down.

 _Where ... sithspit._ Weiss rolled to the side, just in time to have a pair of linked lasers slam into her port wing. It sheared a good chunk off the solar array, but at least her ship was mostly intact. Just as good – it would cost her some mobility, but better that than a failed first flight.

Her missile lock flashed red and she fired on that damn Y-wing. She watched as the missiles zipped across the short distance between them and slammed into the bomber's shields.

Then everything went black.

* * *

Air rushed into the simulator pod as the canopy cracked open. Bits and pieces of conversations started to trickle in, and the part of Weiss that wasn't fuming could just make out the sound of a dozen or so pilots talking about the exercise. Half of it had the happy tones of pilots reliving some successful maneuver, some personal victory. But the rest – the ones who'd been shot down the fastest, the ones without a kill in the scenario – they laid a low grumbling beneath the luckier pilot's cheer.

Weiss thumped her head back against the pilot's seat and closed her eyes. She had no interest in crawling out there, not now, and especially not to face the dubious honor as the pilot whose forces shot most of the Rebel pilots down. They always did – the _Trench Run_ wasn't meant to be easy, but still ...

At least it was nice to know the Defender sim worked. The ship performed as well as the real thing, although she thought she'd felt a bit of lag with the acceleration controls. She made a note to talk with the techs about it later. Overall, it was a successful test. _It would have been nicer to have a clean run, but ..._

Someone knocked on the simulator's hull, breaking her train of thought. Growling under her breath, Weiss yanked her helmet off and tossed it to the back of the fake cockpit. It landed in the corner, making a loud thunk when it hit slightly harder than it needed to.

Grabbing the top of the canopy, Weiss hauled herself out of the simulator, only to find herself face-to-face with a blond pilot in a brown flightsuit, a Lieutenant's insignia pinned to the front.

The blonde smiled, and held out one gloved hand. "Need a lift?"

Weiss shook her head at the offered hand and vaulted over the side of the simulator. She landed with a click as her boots hit the floor, taking the time to brush herself off and give the blonde a once-over.

She was definitely Corellian. Weiss had heard _that_ accent often enough at the Imperial Academy, and even there, Corellians had a reputation for being reckless. Maybe even more so than the ones who'd sided with the New Republic. From the ones she'd known, a number of Corellian Imperials saw expatriates like Antilles and Solo as a black mark against their home system. It made them all the more eager to exact revenge.

But the woman in front of her didn't carry that tension. In fact, she seemed perfectly relaxed, long blond hair tied back behind her. There wasn't a name on her flightsuit, but it did have the battle tabs for Endor and Coruscant sewn onto the sleeve.

"Nice flying out there," the blonde said, folding her arms atop the Defender sim.

"Thanks, Lieutenant," Weiss snapped, managing to just barely avoid snarling like a wounded rancor. "Were you the one who shot me down?"

The blonde grinned, lilac eyes sparkling as she laid her head on her forearms. "First, we're the same rank. No need to stand on ceremony. I'm Yang."

"... Weiss."

"And technically, I didn't shoot you down. I got your engine right before you hit my stabilizers. The Death Star going boom took us both out."

"Fair enough," Weiss sighed. She supposed it was slightly better than getting shot down – if only barely. "I thought it would be harder to hit the exhaust port."

"It is. Still not sure how Skywalker managed to get it on his first try," Yang shrugged. "I've run this scenario a _lot._ Nice thing about simulations is you get to practice until it works. Plus, I kinda evened the odds a bit."

Looking behind the simulator, Yang whistled and a bright yellow-and-white astromech with a transparent dome rolled around the corner. "Meet Ember."

Weiss stared at the R-series astromech, her eyes wide. "How the hell does a bomber jock get assigned an R3 unit?"

Yang shrugged, grinning at Weiss' obvious envy. The generation after the legendary R2s, R3 units were the luxury speeders of astromech droids. Designed for military and government use, their semi-transparent domes had more powerful computing modules than their predecessors, giving them far more storage space and processing power. Power that was far more suited for work on a capital ship than as a plug-in for a snubfighter. Weiss had seen R3 units skittering about on Imperial star Destroyers from time to time, and most of the New Republic's were already aboard the larger ships in the fleet – the odds of finding one in the hands of a Y-wing pilot were about the same as that Y-wing pilot being an Ewok.

Whistling cheerfully, the garishly painted droid rocked back and forth on its two legs before extending the third and rolling around to bump into Yang's leg.

"She's mine, actually. I 'liberated' her from an Imperial Base Commander before I joined the Alliance. Thought about handing her over, but she's got a few bugs. They'd cause trouble if she went on cruiser duty. A few modifications later and she's the best co-pilot I could ask for." Yang smiled proudly and ran her hand over the droid's dome. "Figured if you were gonna test out the new Defender sim, I needed my own ace in the hole."

Weiss nodded, her annoyance subsiding slightly. "Well, thank you for ruining an otherwise excellent run."

"You're welcome. Especially since I'm switching to your side for Round Two." The blonde pilot gave Weiss that cocksure smile only a true Corellian could pull off. "I'm thinking I'll take a TIE bomber for the _Redemption_ scenario. How much you wanna bet the two of us together can vape the entire flight?"

* * *

 **RWBY X-Wing AU, 8 ABY**

 **Dramatis Personae**

 **Hunter Squadron**

Commander Coco Adel (Leader, One) ( _human female from Alderaan_ )

Captain Pyrrha Nikos (XO, Five) ( _Zeltron female from Nar Shadda_ )

Lieutenant Yang Xiao Long (Twelve) ( _human female from Corellia_ )

Lieutenant Weiss Schnee (Ten) ( _human female from Coruscant_ )

Flight Officer Velvet Scarlatina (Two) ( _Bimm female from Bimmisaar_ )

Flight Officer Yatsuhashi (Three) ( _Wookie male from Corrulag_ )

Flight Officer Sage (Four) ( _human male from_ _Fondor_ )

Flight Officer Jaune Arc (Six) ( _human male from Agamar_ )

Flight Officer Nora Valkyrie (Seven) ( _human female from Kuat_ )

Flight Officer Lie Ren (Eight) ( _Mirialan male from_ _Mirial_ )

Flight Officer Ruby Rose (Nine) ( _human female from Corellia_ )

Flight Officer Blake Belladonna (Eleven) ( _Cathar female from_ _Coruscant_ )

 **Hunter Squadron Support Personnel**

Chief PO Oobleck (Chief Mechanic) ( _Verpine male from Nickel One_ )

PO Alistair Fox (Mechanic, CQC trainer) ( _Miraluka male from Sluis Van_ )

PN-3PO, 'Penny' (quartermaster) ( _Protocol and regulations droid_ )

Ember ( _Yang's R3-E6 astromech_ )

Crescent ( _Ruby's R2-C9 astromech_ )

Shroud ( _Blake's R5-D2 astromech_ )

 **New Republic Staff**

Council Member Ozpin ( _human male from Kuat_ )

Admiral Glynda Goodwitch ( _human female from_ _Alderaan_ )

General James Ironwood ( _human male from Coruscant_ )

General Taiyang Xiao Long ( _human male from Corellia_ )

 **Imperial Forces**

Grand Moff Schnee ( _human male from Coruscant_ )

General Lagune ( _human male from Fondor_ )

Captain Cardin Winchester ( _human male from Churba_ )

Ensign Dove Bronzewing ( _human male from Rudrig_ )

* * *

 **Writer's Note: So, here we go. I've bee sitting on this one for a while. Anyway, if you enjoyed it, please do me a favor and leave a review - so I can know what people liked or didn't. It doesn't have to be in-depth at all.**

 **If you want to see what some of the character designs look like for this, check out the RWBY X-Wing AU tag on my tumblr (you can find me at redsuitwriter).**


	2. Command

**Chapter 2 - Command**

"Which just leaves the matter of Lieutenant Schnee," General Ironwood said. Shifting slightly in his chair, the cyborg general reached out for the last item of business, the mechanical hand whirring beneath his glove as the fingers closed around his datapad.

"If she's willing, I'd be happy to have her." Seated on the other side of the pitted and pockmarked desk, Commander Adel pulled up the Lieutenant's dossier on her own datapad. Scattered across the screen were stolen Imperial Naval Academy records and flight histories – all detailing the former Imperial pilot's short career.

"I've seen her simulator scores, and while she flags behind a bit with Republic craft, she's a hot hand in a TIE."

 _Plus,_ she thought, _a newer unit will respond better to her than a more established group._

"You're sure you want her?" Ironwood asked. "Given the recent conflict with her father, most commanding officers might be reluctant to take her to the front lines."

"Sir, it's obvious she's not a spy. The fact that we're having this conversation at all means Intelligence cleared her. As for her being an ex-Imperial pilot ..." Coco trailed off, sighing as she leaned back in her chair. "A lot of our forces are defectors, including about a third of the officers above Major. If 'former Imp' disqualified you from the fighter corps, we wouldn't have a Rebellion left, much less a Republic."

"You don't see her history, her _family_ , as a point of contention in the squadron?"

"Her record, or the parts we've found, had her on the Outer Rim chasing pirates as part of her Academy training. The patrols she did were the same kind of policing some of our units do now. And none of the pilots on the roster have any connection to skirmishes Lieutenant Schnee served in, so her history shouldn't cause any problems."

Ironwood grimaced. While the New Republic had always been willing to take Imperial defectors – especially ones who brought as nice a gift as a state-of-the-art TIE Defender – there was always the chance of trouble if a pilot found out that they, or someone they knew, had been shot down by one of their fellows in the past.

"What's your overall read on her?"

Coco frowned and looked down at the Intelligence report. Schnee's debriefing mentioned a number of reasons why the former Imperial decided to defect. The destruction of Alderaan and Imperial Intelligence releasing a plague on the streets of Coruscant sat front and center. She had a few more mentions, actions by Imperial officers Schnee had found unethical. While it wasn't on the list, Coco had a feeling the well-known misogyny in the Imperial Navy hadn't helped.

"According to her, she joined the military to protect Imperial citizens. With the Emperor dead, the remaining Moffs trying to keep their individual spheres of influence, and rogue warlords like Zsinj attacking both sides, it looks like she decided she could do more good on our side than theirs. Which is why she didn't defect until _after_ the New Republic established itself as a legitimate government."

"But?"

"But ... her interviewer said she closed down when they mentioned her father. She also responded poorly to the suggestion that she'd followed him into Imperial service." Coco frowned, pausing for a second before adding her own conclusions. "I'd put good credits on some personal conflict with Moff Schnee being the tipping point."

"And you still want her?"

Coco shrugged. "She seems pretty by-the-book. And we all have reasons to hate the Empire, sir."

"Very well. She's all yours, Commander."

"Thank you, General." Coco rose from her chair to salute, then turned on her heel and walked out the door.

* * *

Her executive officer was waiting when Coco stepped outside. The red-haired, pink-skinned woman sat in the waiting area, chatting with the General's Twi'lek secretary and fingering the fronds of a slowly dying plant, left there in some vain attempt to add life to the bleak hallway. She looked up and smiled when she heard the door open, deep green eyes warm with recognition. Standing, the redhead said her goodbyes and fell into step beside Coco, missing the yearning look the secretary gave her as she left.

"So," she said, holding out yet another datapad filled with resumes. "Should I give these to you before or after you down half a pot of caf?"

Coco snorted a quick laugh and held out her hand for the datapad. "Before, Pyrrha. And if there isn't caffeine when I get to the officer's mess, you can handle the next round of pilot interviews."

Captain Nikos laughed and handed over the files. Glancing down at another set of applicants, Coco let her feet lead the way down the hall.

"Is this the last of the incoming pilots?" she asked, looking for any excuse to avoid looking at one more list of academy scores.

"Just came in today," Nikos said. Reaching over, she flicked through the profiles until she came to one of a very young-looking woman with red highlights in her dark hair. "Fresh out of the training fleet."

Coco frowned. Something about the girl was familiar. She'd have sworn she had never met the girl before, and the name didn't ring any bells, but ... "She's the sister, isn't she? Explains why I haven't seen Yang today."

"That's the Lieutenant for you," the redhead smiled. It was infectious – Coco couldn't help but follow her lead, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. As always, Coco felt some of the tension in her shoulders bleed out of her, the stiff muscles in her back loosening as the two women headed for the mess hall. Pyrrha tended to have that effect on people.

"If Ruby makes the cut, Yang wants her to know it was on her own efforts, not from having her big sister's help."

"Well, with these scores, I doubt it'll be a problem," Coco said. "Her file says she's certified with a laser rifle too. That's the kind of thing that'll come in handy."

She hit the power button for the datapad and the screen went dark. She could look at the rest of the file later, once she had some food in her. "How did Yang's run against the Defender test run go?"

"It was-"

"Speak of the Sith Lord," a wry voice came from the end of the hall. Coco looked up and found the blonde Corellian leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. She was smiling – the test must have gone well then. _Or at least she shot down enough trainees to amuse herself._

"So, how was it?"

The blonde shrugged and pushed off the wall. "Good. Schnee said she was pretty happy with the sim, just some issues with the acceleration."

"And the opposing team?"

Yang's smile was only a little vindictive. "The General needs to rethink their training. The kids did their best, but Schnee and her TIEs ripped 'em to shreds. I was the only bomber who managed the full run. Lucky for them, I don't miss. "

Coco snorted at the blatant egotism. _If only shields ran on ego ..._ she mused, shaking her head. _Well, to be fair, she_ is _a Corellian._

"And _our_ pilots?"

Yang fell into step beside the Commander, her long mass of blonde hair swinging behind her as they walked. "Good scores, for the most part. Velvet and Yatsu took out their fair share of TIEs before attrition caught up to them. Blake made it to the end – she flew cover for me on my last run."

"And Arc?"

"Clipped by Schnee thirty seconds in and slammed into an automated turret." Yang rolled her eyes in obvious exasperation. "Look, maybe it's just some performance anxiety thing. But if it's not, I have no idea how his scores from training were as high as his file says."

Coco grimaced. That was saying something – the Arc's scores were average at best.

Yang matched Coco's look and swept a stray lock of hair out of her face. "Honestly, I don't know how he didn't wash out."

"We're all short-handed at the moment. The hunt for Zsinj and General Solo's taskforce has everyone scrambling. It's possible Arc slipped through the cracks, or that it's just nerves from being vetted for an actual unit."

Coco sighed and turned the datapad back on. It was unfortunate, but some pilots just didn't have what was needed for this sort of duty. Fighter squadrons required a different level of nerves, and a higher sense of spatial awareness, than many of the other roles in the fleet. Fighter jockeys needed to be able to handle the stresses of flitting about in what amounted to lightly shielded can with lasers attached.

"We'll give him a shot in the live-fire exercises. If his scores show improvement, we'll keep him, try to train him up to the level of the others. If not ..."

Yang nodded. "Fleet command can always use another astronavigator or freight driver."

"Exactly. In the meantime, Pyrrha, see what you can do to get his scores up to par."

The captain caught Coco's eyes and nodded. Taking the datapad back, she turned and walked out of the room.

* * *

Ruby let out a deep sigh as she flopped onto her military-issue bunk. She bounced slightly, then fell back against the sheets, staring up at the ceiling and trying to ignore how depressing the room looked.

The quarters she'd been assigned were sparse at best – the whole room was a generic, nameless shade of gray. A gray metal frame sat against the wall, supporting her mattress with the gray blanket Ruby just knew would feel scratchy against her skin. A gray plasteel workstation with a terminal sat in the corner, behind a swiveling chair in that same, monotonous, awful gray.

It was about what she'd expected. This posting wasn't one of the many old smuggling hideouts or makeshift bases that the Rebellion, and later New Republic, liked to use. Instead, Patch Base was a pre-fabricated structure originally designed for some industrial corporation Ruby couldn't even remember the name of. The base itself was built into an old Clone-War era droid factory. The assembly lines had been gutted and hauled away, leaving a number of large holds that now served as hangar bays for the bases' starfighters. The prefab living quarters for the workers now housed the training base's squadron candidates and flight cadets. _And it looks like the original owners couldn't have cared less about their employees' morale._

Blowing hair out of her face, Ruby stripped down and grabbed one of the flightsuits from the footlocker by the bed. _That_ at least had some color – the painfully bright orange-and-white most X-wing pilots used. In the depths of space, the color was meant to make them easy to spot, and easy to pick up in case a pilot had to eject. Here the color seemed brave, cheery, furiously rejecting the dreary atmosphere of the room.

Zipping up the front of the jumpsuit, Ruby grabbed her ID cards and headed out into the hall. Her first simulation wasn't for another two hours, so unless she wanted to get in some extra practice time – which would probably just make her nerves worse – she needed to find something else to do. _Plus,_ she thought, glancing at the directions on her datapad, _I am kinda hungry._

The mess was already packed by the time Ruby walked through the doors. Pilots, mechanics, and crew filled the space, dressed in worker's coveralls, flightsuits, and the odd uniform. Groups with the same squadron patches clustered around the tables, chatting or grumbling depending on their mood. It wasn't as chaotic as some of the cantinas on base would be, but the crush of people still made her rethink just heading to the simulator room.

Taking a breath, Ruby steeled herself and forced her feet to step into the crowded room. Joining the line, she dumped whatever looked edible onto her tray, hoping that at least some of what she grabbed would taste good. She got free from the line as quickly as she could, finding some relief once she had room to move, and started looking for a place to sit.

None of the tables were free. Most had clumps of pilots of crew shifts gathered together – people who'd worked together before and were happy spending their down time in each other's company. Circling the room, she tried to find an open chair, somewhere with less people at the very least. A humanoid-looking woman with vibrant red hair sat with a blonde man in the corner, talking quietly. For a second, Ruby considered asking if they minded her joining them, but then the man let out a deep sigh and hung his head. _Nope. I don't wanna bother them in the middle of that._

She briefly thought about joining a pair of commandos – one blue-haired, the other a blond non-human from a species Ruby couldn't name – but the loud voices and constant laughter pushed her away. She was about to give up hope of finding a seat when she saw a small table at the back, empty except for one dark-haired figure looking down at a datapad.

Swallowing, Ruby made her way over to the table, side-stepping around the other patrons.

"Um ... you mind if I sit? Everywhere else is pretty full."

The dark-haired woman looked up and met Ruby's eyes. She wasn't human – that much was obvious. She looked tall ... taller than Ruby anyway. Grey-white fur covered her face and neck, shifting to black around the eyes, leading up to tufted ears that poked cat-like through her mass of black hair. Little flecks of white splashed across her cheek bones and between her brows, giving her a striking look that drew the eye to the patterns in her fur.

The woman blinked once, her golden eyes sharp and inscrutable, then looked back down at her datapad. "Go ahead."

"Thanks."

Ruby slid into a seat across from the other pilot, giving her a brief smile before she started eating. The food wasn't _bad_ exactly, just the sort of generally bland meals that normally made their way to a training base. The dark-haired humanoid watched her for a second, then went back to whatever she was reading, her own empty dinner tray lying forgotten nearby.

"So," Ruby said when the silence finally became too awkward. "You um ... you don't have a unit patch. Are you trying out for Hunter Squadron too?"

The dark-haired woman glanced up from her screen. Her eyes held Ruby's for a long second before she nodded.

"Oh. Cool." Ruby bobbed her head, trying to think of anything else to talk about. "Me too. I'm Ruby by the way."

She held out her hand across the table, and immediately regretted it.

With so many species in the Republic, there was every chance that this woman came from a place where a handshake meant something completely different. Ruby's sister Yang had told her once about a bar on one planet she'd been to – she'd turned her glass over on the bar to say she didn't need another drink, and apparently accidentally told everyone there that she could beat them in a fight. Local habits and customs were more-or-less similar in areas that had been under Imperial control, but the farther you got from the center of the galaxy, the more likely you were to put your foot in your mouth. The dark-haired woman spoke Common without much of an accent, so she was probably from one of the more cosmopolitan worlds, but there was still every chance that she-

Ruby's train of thought derailed as the other woman reach out and took her hand. Relief washed over Ruby as she pumped it twice and then let go. _Oh, thank the Force._

"... Blake." The cat-eared woman cocked her head to the side, gold eyes sweeping up and down over Ruby's flight suit. "You're new, aren't you?"

Ruby couldn't help but laugh as the tension rushed out of her.

"What gave it away?"

* * *

 **Writer's Note: So, fortunately, I have a couple of these in the can - so I don't have to worry too much about regular updates. So the next chapter will be out next week or the week after depending on how work on Prise de Fleur and Premium Well is going.**

 **If you can spare the time, _please_ leave a review, even if it's short - the ones on chapter one were great to read, and finding out about people's history with StarWars and the X-wing series was a blast.**


	3. Hunter Squadron

**Chapter 3 – Hunter Squadron**

Captain Nikos watched as the cockpit canopy popped open, letting in the light from the simulator bay. Forcing a smile onto her face, she stepped over, and winced when she saw the young man inside bury his face in his hands.

"See? I said you could make that run if you timed it right," she said, trying to sound reassuring. Flight Officer Jaune Arc looked up and met her eyes. She smiled – it wouldn't help to injure his confidence any more than it already was – but from the look on his face, it seemed he could tell she was trying to make him feel better. If anything, the compliment made him droop lower.

It hadn't actually been that bad a run. Jaune managed to make it through the scenario – him and a few other fighters getting chased through a volcano-world by the three-winged TIE Defender Lieutenant Schnee had brought. Part of its testing and everyone's training was going up against the ship, getting the less experienced flight cadets used to the intimidating craft.

He'd even managed a few kills: one by winging a TIE fighter's fuselage with a shot probably meant for his wingman, and the second by ramming a different TIE sideways with his ship. His X-wing's shields had held – the unshielded TIE had not. The little ball-like craft crumpled beneath the blow and bounced into one of the canyon walls. While unconventional, it was a perfectly valid tactic. Pyrrha had even given him extra points for taking advantage of the opening, rather than trying to over-correct.

Overall, it wouldn't have been a bad run ... if he hadn't caught a wing on the lip of the canyon when he tried to pull up. He'd crashed into the reddish rock, wrecking his fighter and most likely killing his digital self. He might have survived a real crash, assuming none of the debris caught him and the TIEs didn't circle back around to finish him off.

His expression sank even further as he clambered out of the simulator, standing more-or-less at attention as he waited for her to tell him his score. It looked like he suspected the same thing Pyrrha saw when she glanced down at the readout on her datapad – even with bonus for unconventional tactics, his scores were still at the bottom of the squadron charts.

Looking back up, Pyrrha smiled. _Positive reinforcement – remind him what he did well before reviewing the mistakes._

"Not bad. Two kills and extra points for keeping control after ramming that one TIE." "You should be happy. You're getting better at these."

He shrugged, and looked back down at the simulator behind him. "Guess I'd just like to survive a mission for a change."

"It's still an improvement over your last run. Keep this up and your scores will match the rest of the squadron in no time."

Jaune nodded sullenly but didn't speak. Biting the inside of her cheek, Pyrrha reconsidered her approach. The blonde human wasn't the _worst_ pilot she'd ever seen. He didn't have a firm grasp of the fundamentals, but she could fix that, given enough time. It was his tunnel vision that was the immediate problem – he had good tactical sense, but his inability to focus on anything other than the target right in front of him kept him from using it to his advantage.

 _Okay. New tactic._

"Sit down for a second," she said and gestured over to one of the briefing tables. He followed her to the chairs, then slouched in the padded seat, bracing himself for what he seemed to think would be a dressing-down.

Setting his scores aside, Pyrrha place her elbows on the table and leaned forward. "Jaune, why did you enlist?"

"Sorry?"

"You've gone through flight training, gotten all the way here – that's no small feat." Pyrrha frowned as he winced again. Something about bringing up his accomplishments ... _Maybe he thinks it just puts more pressure on him?_ "So, what made you want to be a pilot in the first place?"

Jaune was quiet for a long moment before he spoke. "My grandfather fought in the Garos-Sundari War. You know about it?" He merely shrugged when Pyrrha shook her head. "Yeah that's ... not surprising. Anyway, he was a pilot – a pretty good one too. Enlisted with the Garosian defense forces and shot down every ship sent his way. Me and my sisters heard all sorts of stories from him growing up."

"Sounds like quite the hero."

"He was." Jaune nodded, eyes staring through to table at something far away. "The war ended, but he'd spent too much time among the stars. He traveled for a while, ended up settling on Agamar and raised a family, and he was good at that too. Then the Clone Wars happened and he said my dad should enlist. Agamar had sided with the Confederacy, and grandpa said the Republic needed good men like him to turn it around."

"I take it he didn't?"

Arc shook his head. "Dad stayed home. Kept his head down. Stayed safe."

"There's no shame in that."

"Maybe, but I can't spend the rest of my life as a farmer or a bilge driver. The Empire's _wrong_ , and I..." he broke off, his eyes staring past the wall, past the bulkhead behind it, at something far more distant. "I need to be here to stop it. I need to know I did something important. That my life actually mattered."

Pyrrha held back the comment so many trainers gave to so many hopeful fighter-jockeys – that serving as an astronavigator or a helmsman was just as important as jumping in the seat of a snubfighter. That their service to the Republic was no less heroic. But every pilot dreamed of being the next Wedge Antilles or Luke Skywalker or Corran Horn – of being heralded as a hero of the New Republic. They forgot how many snubfighter pilots died anonymous deaths, remembered and mourned only by their fellows and their families. It was easier to romanticize the job – but Jaune would have heard that speech by now.

Laying her hands on the table, Pyrrha tapped the metal until Jaune looked her in the eye.

"Okay. Next time you get in the cockpit, think about that. Think about why you're here, what you're trying to live up to. Then, as soon as the simulation starts," she napped her fingers. "Let it go. Keep the drive, but let go of everything outside the scenario."

"You think that'll help?"

"I do. And it can't hurt." _Especially since what's holding him back is his inability to keep track of his surroundings. If he keeps his head on what he's doing, Jaune might start to develop the situational awareness he'll need._

Standing, she tucked the datapad back under her arm, and gave the young man an encouraging look. "Think you're up for one more run?"

Arc looked down at the duracrete floor, then back up at Pyrrha, holding her gaze as he nodded. "Yes ma'am."

* * *

It took Command three days to finish the unit roster. Weiss spent most of that time tinkering with the Defender sim and running simulations. Apparently several unit commanders were eager to send their pilots against the X-wing killer, and Weiss did her best to make sure she kept that reputation. Lieutenant Xiao Long popped in every few runs, taking a spare bomber or fighter when she wasn't busy with her other duties, running backup for Weiss' Defender and laughing the entire time. From what Weiss saw, the blonde Lieutenant loved nothing more than shooting General Ironwood's trainees out of the sky.

It was just after one of those simulations, her hair still messed by the flight helmet, that Weiss' comlink finally beeped, summoning her to one of the base's briefing rooms. By the time she got there, almost all of the squadron had already arrived. Most were sitting around the white domed room, talking quietly with each other. Xiao Long was seated near the front, next to a calm-looking woman with red hair and a captain's insignia on her uniform. Her skin was a pale shade of pink – too bright to be human – but that seemed to be the only real difference. _A near-human species then._

Looking around, Weiss realized a little under half of the pilots were aliens, most from species she hadn't seen before. It wasn't surprising that she didn't recognize them – she'd been too busy modifying the simulator to track down the other squadron candidates. Weiss did remember the Wookie ...Yat-something? He was one of the pilots she'd seen during the Defender testing exercises. The other species she didn't recognize, apart from a furred woman with long dark hair she guessed _might_ be a Cathar. An insect-like alien in a mechanic's uniform stood in the back, near a dark-haired man who looked mostly human apart from his pink eyes and deep green skin.

It was very different from any of the briefings she'd attended at the Imperial Naval Academy. Standard Imperial recruiting doctrine was to avoid hiring nonhumans if at all possible, and only in non-critical positions when given no other choice. There were exceptions – Grand Admiral Thrawn immediately came to mind – but most of her classes and even her training ship had been crewed exclusively by humans. Even before the academy, growing up as the daughter of a Grand Moff in the human-dominated upper levels of Coruscant had given her few chances to interact with non-humans.

 _Isn't that the point though?_ she thought, angry with herself for that brief flicker of unease. _I defected because I wanted things to be different. This_ is _different. And on a practical level, it's why_ _they're winning. The Mon Cal fleet, the debacle at Endor – half of the Rebellion's victories happened because they allied with alien species the Empire never would. It'll take some time to adjust, but I'll get used to them soon enough._

A flash of movement caught her eyes, and Weiss looked over to find Yang waving from the front row. Weiss paused – she'd planned to just sit in the back – and then shrugged. The Corellian _was_ the only other member of the squadron she'd met apart from Commander Adel. There was no reason to completely antisocial.

"Hey short stuff," Yang said as soon as the white-haired pilot was within earshot, ignoring the glower Weiss shot at her. "Come on, we've got maybe a minute before the briefing starts."

The woman beside her cleared her throat. Looking chagrined, Yang laughed and shifted back in her chair. "Right. Haven't introduced you yet. Weiss, this is Captain Nikos."

"Captain," Weiss saluted, holding it until the redhead returned the gesture. It was the first time she really _looked_ at the red-haired woman, and it took the breath from her throat.

She definitely wasn't human. She couldn't be – not with a face like that. Deep green eyes sparkled beneath sharp, crimson brows set against pink skin, colors too vibrant for a regular human. She was tall, with cheekbones made for holodramas and the body of an athlete. Even under her uniform, Weiss could see how the cloth clung to her biceps and her shoulders, narrowing as it followed the curves of her body down to a tight and undoubtedly muscled waist.

The captain smiled and held out her hand, and Weiss felt her heart jump in her chest.

"Pyrrha Nikos. Sorry we haven't met before now."

Weiss' mouth was dry. Swallowing, she shook the offered hand and forced herself to nod. "Not a problem. I know my transfer orders came late."

A door whooshed open behind her, and Weiss glanced over her shoulder to find Commander Adel walking into the room. Glancing over, Captain Nikos flashed her another brief smile and settled back in her chair.

"Sorry to cut this short, but we'll have a chance to talk after the briefing. The three of us need to go over the training schedules with the commander anyway."

Nodding absently, Weiss sat on the other side of Yang and tried to school her features into something vaguely professional. Training schedules had never sounded so good.

The squawk of a voice amplifier pulled her attention to the lectern standing at the front of the room. Settling herself behind it, Commander Adel cleared her throat and switched on the mic.

"For all of you here today," Coco paused and scanned over the assembled pilots. "I want to commend you for managing to make it this far in our selection process. Now, we _are_ working out some of the last few particulars for this unit, but for the foreseeable future, the people sitting around you are your squadron."

 _Nothing new there,_ Weiss thought, glancing over her shoulder at the rest of the unit. It seemed like more of them had assumed the same – no one, apart from the human male in the middle of the pack, looked even remotely surprised.

"Traditionally, we would all be flying the same model of fighter, if only to give our mechanics less of a headache. Unfortunately, since our squadron is the unloved little sister at the moment, we're catching the hand-me downs. A few of you actually have fighters already assigned to you, so rather than try and switch those out, we've decided to go for 'mismatched but effective.' As a result, most of you will be flying X-wings, overseen primarily by Captain Nikos and myself."

Commander Adel nodded over towards the three officers sitting in the front row. "Lieutenant Xiao Long is a Y-wing ace, and will be handling the training for our unit's bomber pilots, who will be flying our three B-wings.

"I'm also Demolitions when we're on the ground," the blonde chirped, turning to face the pilots seated behind her. "So if I start yelling 'run,' just do it and don't ask why."

The commander raised an eyebrow at Yang before turning back to the others. "Last among the ranking officers, I want to introduce Lieutenant Schnee."

A short wave of murmuring started at the mention of her name. Keeping her eyes forward, Weiss tried to put it out of her mind. At least they sounded more curious than actively hostile.

"As our Imperial tactics expert, she'll be in charge of drilling you to counter Imperial strategies and running simulations against the rest of you, which is the best news you'll receive all day. If you can survive an ex-Imperial ace in an 'X-wing killer,' hopefully you'll stand a chance of making it home in one piece."

"Before I read off the roster, I want to remind everyone that under Admiral Ackbar's orders, we're testing out the new 'Antilles Training Protocol' – despite Commander Antilles' _many_ complaints about the name. Basically, you're all guinea pigs to see if these types of experimental commando-pilot units can actually work, if they're not being run by the one man who flew against two Death Stars."

"For the rest of you, I'll just go down the line for wing assignments. Flight Officer Scarlatina, you're Hunter Two and my wing, as well as our code-slicer." A floppy-eared alien seated beside the Wookie nodded briefly, looking a little uncomfortable as the rest of the unit's eyes turned to her and visibly relaxing when the commander moved on.

"Yatsuhashi, you're Hunter Three, with Sage as Four and your wingman." The towering mass of fur and a green-haired man nearby nodded to each other, both looking completely satisfied with the pairing. "As a Wookie, Yatsu is considerably stronger than the average human, and capable of infiltrating Wookie communities if that ever comes up. Sage is our medical officer, and in charge of re-attaching any limbs that Yatsu rips off."

There was a short round of laughter – the joke about Wookies ripping off arms was an old and tired one, but it still managed to get a chuckle out of most of the pilots. The fact that most of those stories involved removing the limbs from Imperial taskmasters probably helped.

"Captain Nikos is Hunter Five, paired with Arc, Hunter Six and our communications officer." Weiss thought she saw a flicker of annoyance in the commander's features when she looked at the blonde man, but it vanished just as quickly. "Nora Valkyrie is Seven with Ren as Eight, and our heavy weapons specialist and intrusion expert respectively."

"Ruby Rose, you're Hunter Nine, on Lieutenant Schnee's wing as Hunter Ten. Rose is also our unit sniper, should the need arise, and our backup mechanic. Belladonna, our other intrusion expert, is a former resistance fighter and member of the Alien Combine off Coruscant, as well as Hunter Eleven and wingmate to Lieutenant Xiao Long, Twelve."

Weiss glanced over at Hunter Nine. Another human, this one with a bob of dark hair shifting to red at the tips. She looked young – too young in Weiss' opinion. Fresh from the flight academy, and for an experimental unit like this ... well, she had better be a damn good pilot.

The girl met her eyes and smiled, waving happily from across the room. For a second, Weiss didn't know how to respond – Should she nod? Wave back? – until she felt her chair shift as Yang turned to wave. _Well, at least_ they _know each other._

Setting her misgivings about her wingmate aside, Weiss turned her attention to the last member of her flight, and swallowed.

Yang's partner was Hunter Eleven, the Cathar. Even sitting down, Weiss could tell she was tall – definitely taller than her, and probably just shy of Pyrrha and Yang. The rippling fur on her face and neck was a light grey, almost white, shifting to black as it travelled up into her hair. Her tufted ears twitched occasionally within her long black tresses, currently tied back behind her in a ponytail.

She turned, and by accident or instinct she met Weiss' gaze. Sharp, golden eyes sparkled from behind the smoky rings her fur made beneath her brows. It made her already intense stare downright piercing.

Weiss blinked and looked back at the commander, her mouth suddenly dry. Coco was still talking – and Weiss had missed every word she'd said. Shaking her head, the former TIE pilot focused on the commander and just managed to catch the end of her briefing.

"When we break by groups, I lead One Flight, Pyrrha has Two Flight, and Yang takes Three Flight. If we need to rearrange into specialized units, Yang takes the bombers, and the rest group up on Captain Nikos and me. Any questions?"

The room was silent while the more expressive pilots shook their heads.

"Wonderful. You're dismissed until oh-eight hundred hours – take the chance to get some rest. The Captain and I will be putting you all through your paces soon enough."

A number of the other pilots laughed or cheered, their chairs scraping the floor as they stood to leave. Weiss stayed where she was – she hadn't spoken to the commander since their first interview, and Coco was already making her way down towards the ranking officers.

The brunette Commander stopped a few feet away, waiting for the rest of the pilots to start clearing out before she addressed the three women.

"Sorry we haven't had a chance to speak," she smiled and nodded to Weiss. "I hear your Defender sim is considered public enemy number one among the base trainees."

"Just glad it works, sir."

"I won't keep you any longer. I know we wanted to work through the training regimen today, but ... well, something came up. Take the time to relax – and that's an order, Lieutenant. I know you've spent every waking hour on the Defender. I'll see you all at oh-six hundred tomorrow and we'll start then."

Yang groaned at the early time while Pyrrha shrugged from her other side. Weiss tried to ignore the brief flash of disappointment; she'd been looking forward to working with the Captain, and as ridiculous as it sounded, she was sorry she wouldn't get the chance until tomorrow.

"One last thing." Coco turned her attention back to Weiss and tapped her datapad. A second later, Weiss' own personal pad chimed the short little note for a new message. "Intelligence just sent this through. It's not a surprise, and I'm sure you knew this was coming, but Imperial Command has officially put out a death mark on you."

Weiss looked down at the message. It wasn't long. Just the usual accusations of treason and insurrection that she'd seen on other warrants when she served with the Navy. The 'grand theft' charge was less common, but she'd expected something after stealing top-of-the-line military hardware. And right at the bottom, in the perfect, exact handwriting she'd recognize anywhere, was her father's signature.

She had known something like this was coming. The furious, ranting message her father left for her after she defected made that perfectly clear, along with exactly what he'd do to her if he ever saw her again. If anything, she'd assumed there'd be more. Some cover story painting her as a mental patient, or accusing her of crimes heinous enough to make even a Hutt pause. Even for an official notice, it just seemed too ... impersonal.

"Like you said," Weiss murmured, trying to keep her face straight as she met Commander Adel's searching look. "It's not really much of a surprise."

* * *

 **Writer's Note: I know some people were waiting for Jaune to show up, and hopefully this gives everyone a clear idea about the whole squadron. So the next chapter will be out in two weeks - I need some time to focus on another fic.**

 **If you can spare the time, _please_ leave a review, even if it's short or just a few words - the ones on chapter one and two were great to read, and finding out about people's history with StarWars and the X-wing series was a blast. **


	4. Down Time

**Chapter 4 - Down Time**

"You doing okay?" an annoyingly chipper voice said an inch away from Weiss' ear.

Weiss resisted the urge to jump – she'd been so focused on the Imperial warrant that she hadn't heard the blonde Corellian coming up beside her.

"I'm fine."

"You sure?" Yang asked. "I mean, when you leave the Empire, you kinda expect to get a death mark. You know, for the desertion and the sedition and the whole treason thing. But seeing your father sign off on it-"

"I'm fine," she snapped, turning her datapad off as Yang glanced over her shoulder. "It's nothing I didn't see coming."

"Still," the blonde trailed off, falling into step beside the shorter woman. Suddenly, she nudged Weiss' arm with her elbow, bouncing forward until she could turn and look Weiss in the eyes. "Hey, d'you want a drink?"

"Not really." Honestly, what she wanted to do was lock herself in a simulator and blow a few hundred AI out of the sky. Wouldn't change anything, but at least it'd let her feel like she was doing _something_.

"Come on," Yang said, nudging her arm. "You've been here over a week. Other than you shooting them down in the sims, the rest of squad's barely seen you. Now that we have a team roster, you're running out of excuses." Weiss was about to dig her feet in when Yang clapped her hands together. "How about just our flight? Us, your wing, mine?"

Weiss sighed. What was it about this blonde ball of energy that always made her feel so tired? "I'd really rather not."

Yang sighed and threw up her hands. "Okay. I give up. I am hereby ordering you to have fun."

"We're the same rank," Weiss said dryly.

"But you're newly commissioned. Technically, I have seniority." Yang's grin was still amiable, but there was a determination in her violet eyes. "Plus, Pyrrha and Coco will agree with me."

Weiss ground her teeth, her eyes narrowing to slits as she came to a halt. First, the suggestion of seniority was ... technically true. And only really because Yang held the position of Flight Leader. Either way, this was ridiculous. A complete and utter, ridiculous waste of time.

 _But ... is it really worth fighting her on this?_

Weiss glanced at the Corellian, and saw the stubborn set of her chin, the look that said there was no way she was letting up until Weiss said yes.

"... fine," she sighed, holding up her hands. "But just our flight. I'm really not in the mood for a crowd right now."

"Perfect!" Yang beamed, whipping out a small datapad as she dragged a very resigned-looking Weiss down the corridor.

* * *

The cantina was dimly lit, probably to hide the fact that it hadn't been scrubbed down in years. Bright neon lights flickered and blinked from the sign decorating the front, mixing with the low glow from the hologame tables, shadows on the patrons' faces moving as game pieces and holocards danced across the many tables. The poor lighting and brief flashes made it nearly impossible to see as Yang guided her to the back of the cantina. The din was as oppressive as the lack of light – the room was filled with a dozen conversations, half of them in languages she couldn't even name, matched by the smells of as many sweating species and distilled liquids as they could cram into the small corner of the base. _It's the last sort of place I ever expected to find myself._

Weiss followed Yang, half-blind, until they came to a booth near the wall. Trying not to wonder why the table was sticky, she sat on the outer edge of the booth, loathe to find herself trapped by bodies in a place like this. Watching the room, she didn't even notice the other Lieutenant was speaking until Yang tapped her shoulder.

Looking up, she saw the blonde's mouth move, the sound swallowed by the racket.

"Sorry?" she asked.

"... do you want to drink?" Yang half-shouted, taking it all in stride.

Sighing, Weiss mumbled something about sunfruit liquor, and Yang vanished back into the crowd. Alone, Weiss was keenly aware of how many bodies were piled into the room – _especially the non-humans._ Ugnaughts chattered over in the corner over a portable display, watching some sort of competition she didn't recognize involving hammers and an exploding ball. The Twi'leks she recognized, the distinctive brain-tails and chromatic skin were easy to spot even in this place. Glancing around, she spotted a few wolfmen from Uvena, a couple Rodians, even what appeared to be wingless insects chattering to each other in short, chittering clicks.

She made a conscious decision to ask Yang if there was anywhere else on base to get a drink. This many people in this small a space made her nervous, but at least everyone seemed to be ignoring the white-haired pilot sitting alone. _Small favors, I suppose._

A grinning blonde head popped back out of the crowd, and Weiss found herself sighing with relief. If nothing else, Yang seemed to know the place, which meant Weiss could take her cues from the other woman. Hopefully, she'd manage to make it out without jamming her foot too far into her mouth.

Two figures struggled out of the crowd behind Yang – Blake, the dark-haired Cathar from the briefing, and Weiss' own wing, looking nervous and excited and much, much too raw.

Weiss made no sign of moving, so the two others slid in on the other side of the booth, shuffling around until Ruby sat beside the former imperial, with Blake beside her and Yang on the end, balancing drinks and laying them out before the rest of them.

"Lomin ale for the two of you," she grinned and slid the glass across the table. "And sunfruit for the princess."

Glaring at the nickname, Weiss sipped her drink and was surprised to find it clean. On the whole ... it actually wasn't bad. She supposed even a dive like this had to have a bartender who knew what he was doing.

Flopping down on the end, Yang raised her tumbler. "You sure you don't want some, Rubes? Taste of home." Her voice trailed up at the end, trying to entice the younger girl.

Ruby rolled her eyes and shook her head, wrapping both her hands around her ale.

"You're both Corellian?" Weiss asked. Yang's accent was unmistakable, but she hadn't heard the other girl speak. She shouldn't be surprised really – a large number of Corellian expats had joined the Rebellion. Some had even becomes famous for it – Han Solo and Wedge Antilles were household names.

Yang grinned. "You wanna tell her or should I?"

Weiss followed the blonde's gaze to her wingmate, rubbing her hands nervously over her drink. Ruby met Weiss eyes and grimaced.

"She means 'home' home." When Weiss blinked, she scratched at the back of her neck and smiled sheepishly. "She's my sister."

"Oh." Weiss kept her voice flat. That explained how they knew each other at least. And why she was on Weiss' wing. It put Ruby in the same flight as her sister – close enough for the blonde to keep an eye on, and just far enough to avoid smothering her.

"And now that's out of the way," Yang grinned and glanced over at her own wingmate. "It's obvious Schnee is from 'Imperial Centah'." Weiss shuddered at the horrendous imitation of a Coruscant dialect and shot the other lieutenant a glare. Yang didn't seem to notice.

"Anyway, since the roster doesn't really count for introductions – Weiss, this is Blake. Blake, Weiss."

Resigned, she met the Cathar's gold eyes and nodded a greeting. The cat-like alien nodded back, her stare piercing, weighing the white-haired pilot as she looked her over. Weiss felt herself start to scowl – she didn't like being examined.

"You all here to celebrate?"

Weiss looked up to see where the voice had come from. Hunter Six ... _Arc, I think ..._ stared back at her, smiling awkwardly and holding a half-empty glass of ale. _Stars,_ Weiss thought. _I thought Ruby looked fresh from the academy._ _Did the Commander pluck him right off the farm?_

"Commiserate, actually." The taller lieutenant bumped Weiss' shoulder with her own. "Imps finally got around to giving Weiss her death mark."

The scowl Weiss shot Yang could have melted duracrete, but the blonde only shrugged. "What? You defected. They were gonna do it eventually."

"Is that serious?" Jaune asked, eyes wide. Before Weiss could object, he grabbed a spare chair and pulled it over. _And there goes 'just our flight.' Thanks, Yang._

If Yang noticed Weiss' annoyance, she didn't show it. "Not really. The Empire's put a bunch on 'insurgents' over the years. Defecting to the Republic is definitely enough to get you on the list. For Rogue Squadron, you get one just for joining the team."

Raising her drink, Yang took a sip, swallowed, and sighed. "With Schnee, that means every senior officer in the unit has one, plus a few of you younger pilots."

"Really?" Jaune said, wide-eyed. "What'd you get them for?"

"Well, Coco got hers after flying at Endor. For some reason, the Empire doesn't like people blowing up their toys."

Weiss couldn't help but snort. _That_ was an understatement. Even going off of Imperial estimates (which were certainly doctored) the "Planetary Ore Extractor" above Endor's moon had cost the Empire trillions of credits. Even if it wasn't a military action by an armed rebellion, helping cause that kind of damage would land you on most wanted lists anywhere in the civilized galaxy.

"Same with you and Pyrrha?" Blake asked quietly, running her fingers around the lip of her glass.

"Nah, Pyrrha got hers a year later, and I was too junior at Endor to get anything more than a few laser bolts sent my way. Plus, I had mine before joining the Alliance."

Weiss's brow furrowed. Knowing Yang, whatever she'd done was either destructive, insulting, or both. "Let me guess: you blew something up."

Seeing the look in her eyes, Yang grinned. "I'm 'demolitions' for a reason. When I was younger, I worked with a local resistance group. Small stuff. We disrupted supply chains, did some slicing, a bit of vandalism. Anyway, when I left to join the Rebellion, I left the local Imp base a going-away present."

Ruby laughed, the red streaks in her hair shifting as she moved. "Sorry. Yang's 'present' was a pile of explosives. She blew the depot sky-high."

"What? It's not my fault they stored their munitions improperly." Yang shrugged, trying and failing to keep the smug smile from her face. "Anyway, I decided to go out with a bang and broadcast the fireworks show as far as I could ... after my friends carted away all the weapons they could get their hands on."

"And the younger ones?" Jaune asked. "The ones who aren't officers?"

"Well, talking about it is really up to them, although it's public record in Imperial systems," Yang said. "For the New Republic, getting one from the Imps is more a mark of pride."

Weiss just barely caught Yang's glance over at the Cathar. If she hadn't been paying attention, she never would have seen it, or the small nod Blake gave her.

"Well, Yatsuhashi's been open about his, so I guess it's okay. He has one for throwing two imperial officers off a building. Self-defense – it's a long story – and Blake here had one before coming to the Republic."

"Really? What'd you get it for?" Ruby asked. "I-if it's okay, I mean."

Blake gave her a very level look. "Before the Republic took Coruscant, Imperial Intelligence started sending Stormtrooper squads into InviSec – it's the civilian name for their Alien Protection Zone." The bite to her voice left little doubt what she thought of the area.

Weiss nodded. Anyone who'd lived on Imperial Center – _Coruscant_ , she corrected herself – knew about the Zone. Knew and didn't talk about it. Born out of some Imperial planning office, InviSec was officially meant as a way to provide alien species with an area of their own. Practically, it served to corral the non-humans away, out of sight for much of the rest of the city-planet.

She'd never been there herself – no reason to – but the area was rarely mentioned without the word 'raid' in the same breath. A few of the more daring citizens would slum there, enjoying the sense of danger with the reassurances of the occasional passing trooper, but the idea had never had any appeal to her.

Raising her glass, Blake down the rest of her ale. "That wasn't anything new, but normally, they'd just harass anyone who wasn't human and looked at them cross-eyed. Or find someone to arrest and fill their quota. All of a sudden, they started 'extracting' groups of one or two species at a time – not their regular suppression tactics. They'd take a dozen Quarrens, then ten Sullustans, or a few families of Gammoreans. They were-"

"Test subjects," Weiss finished, her throat suddenly tight. The Krytos Plague had been well-documented after the New Republic took the planet. A 'gift' left behind by the former Director of Imperial Intelligence, the plague ravaged its victims, putting them in extreme pain before finally killing them. The one saving grace was that the cure was simple – bacta – but there'd still been millions of victims who couldn't, or wouldn't, get to the plague centers in time.

Blake nodded. "We didn't know that at the time, but a couple of us took offense to them kidnapping friends and family. So, while the Rogues were running around, trying to take down the planet shields, a bunch of us decided to return the favor. Stormies started 'vanishing' before they made it twenty feet into InviSec."

The rest of the table grew silent. "That's how'd you get your mark?" Ruby said, as quietly as she could in the crowded room.

"No. It didn't stop them. So, the next time they sent a squad, we captured them. When they couldn't tell us anything," Blake trailed off and glanced down at her drink, looking annoyed to find it empty.

"Someone decided we needed to make a statement. We set up a holorecorder and sliced into the feeds for the city. We tried to tell as many people as we could about the raids, but our slicer wasn't that good. Halfway through the broadcast, two squads stormed our hideout. We fought back. Most of us didn't make it. None of them did."

Blake looked down and saw Yang sliding her own drink into her hand. Nodding thanks, she knocked it back and grimaced. "Short version? I shot the ranking Imperial commander in the head in live holo."

* * *

 **Writer's Note: So the next chapter will be out next week at the same time - I already got it done - and Premium Well should be out this Sunday.**

 **If you can spare the time, _please_ leave a review, even if it's short or just a few words - the ones on chapter one and two were great to read, and finding out about people's history with _Star Wars_ and the X-wing series was a blast.**


	5. Training Day

**Training Day**

They didn't talk much after that. Jaune mumbled something about extra practice and stumbled away, ashen-faced. Ruby tried to get some sort of conversation going, but after a few minutes, Blake rose to leave. Weiss took the excuse to escape. She'd had more than enough 'socializing' for one night.

The next morning, at oh-six-hundred galactic time, she reported to one of the gyms to find Yang grinning as the trainees filed in, dressed for exercise and looking confused when they found the room empty. The weight machines and running platforms had been moved aside, leaving a large, flat area in the center of the room covered in pads.

"You're our unarmed combat trainer?" Weiss asked as she came into the room. She looked skeptical. "I thought Captain Nikos was the close-quarters expert."

"I can hold my own," Yang said, faking offense. "And Pyrrha has better things to do today than throw a bunch of wet-behind-the-ears pilot candidates around."

Yang smile turned wolfish as the rest of the new pilots funneled in. Scowling, Weiss moved around to where Yang stood, taking advantage of rank while the others milled about, uncertain.

A flicker of movement made her glance to the side. A thin man she hadn't seen stepped forward from the back of the room. He was slender, but beneath the workout clothes, Weiss saw the taut, hard muscles of someone who cared more about function that appearance. He was a wiry humanoid, with dark skin and red hair. She might had thought him a normal human except for the thin band covering his eyes. Her first thought was that it was some kind of stunt, but he didn't move like a blinded man. There was no hesitation in the way he moved, no questioning if someone had put something in his way. Either he knew this room inside and out, or he could see under that blindfold.

"This," Yang said, seeming pleased with herself. "Is Petty Officer Fox. Coco insisted you all take some extra hand-to-hand training, and Fox is gonna handle it." Her grin shifted, looking almost wolfish. "He's also one of the engineers for your fighters, so if you don't want your ship ending up on the bottom of the repair docket and your seat padding replaced with rocks, I suggest you listen to him."

A quick murmur went around the room, stopping as the petty officer glanced at them.

"Who has unarmed combat training?" Fox asked softly, his voice calm and sure. "Real training. More than just a few courses in basic?"

Weiss saw Ren and Blake raise their hands. Not surprising – both of them were the squad's intrusion experts. It made sense they'd have some training.

The quiet man with the covered eyes cocked his head at them, then nodded.

"Alright. Those of you who don't, come on up. I want to see what they manage to drill into you in flight school."

"Can he see?" Weiss asked softly as Arc stepped up to the map.

"Fox? Kinda." Yang shrugged. "He's a Miraluka. Don't have eyes – it's why they wear bands like that. Or glasses. The sockets creep people out."

"Then how-"

A massive thud resounded off the bare walls, followed by desperate gasps. Weiss looked back to find Arc lying on the floor, hand clutched to his chest, the wind knocked out of him.

"I see through the Force, Lieutenant," Fox said, never moving his eyes ... where his eyes would be, from Jaune. "All of my people have some small bit of it. It's like seeing a silhouette. Basic body shape, movement, size, that I can see. Fine features, colors, those are out. It also," a ghost of a smile twitched at his lips. "Gives me fairly good hearing."

Weiss' military training was the only thing that kept her face from turning a bright red. Yang's chuckling didn't help. Scowling, Weiss pulled off the light jacket she wore and stepped onto the mats.

* * *

Later that night, Weiss slipped into her quarters, closed the door behind her, and moaned.

After she and the others showed their limited skills to the petty officer, he'd paired them up with their wingmates. In groups, he ran them through drill after drill – punches, kicks, holds, correcting even Yang when her stance slipped once or twice. In all, Weiss thought she'd learned more in a day than in her last several months of duty, even with her occasional practice rounds with other Imperial, and then Republic, personnel.

Then he'd had them spar. Splitting them by four-person flights, he kept them with their wingmates, half of each wing dueling the other half. With the Commander and Captain Nikos absent, he'd paired Arc and Velvet together, taking on Sage and Yatsu, the Wookie, on his own. Even Fox couldn't quite bully a Wookie into submission, but with Yatsu unable to even touch him, the renowned Wookie strength wasn't much help.

Meanwhile, she and Ruby had sparred against Yang and Blake. That had _not_ been a fair fight. Not in the least.

Yang was immovable. She wasn't quite as nimble as Ren, and didn't have anywhere near Fox's speed, but she still managed to block or dodge half of what Weiss threw at her. When she actually put the effort in. The rest of the time, she let their blows land, or blocked them just enough to deflect the blow before crashing into her opponent, using her height and size to her advantage. She had a boxer's strength and Weiss was grateful the blonde had aimed for soft, padded targets – she wouldn't want one of those fists aimed at her head.

And Blake ... Blake moved like shadow. She didn't have the controlled perfection Fox did, but she still moved with a grace and speed Weiss envied. Too many times she tried to block a blow only to have Blake whip around her, catching her wherever her guard was weakest. It was one thing to have Yang tackle her or toss her down – it was aggravating, but at least most of the blonde's focus had been on giving Ruby pointers. It was another to have the dark-haired woman pin her to the mat, completely helpless beneath the dark shadow lying atop her, pressing into her. With Yang, it was just annoying, especially with the damn grin she always wore. With Blake ...

She shook her head. _Maybe being a Cathar helps,_ she wondered, peeling out of her flightsuit and collapsing onto a chair. _That, or just the training she's already had._

Moaning, she started massaging a bruise and let her eyes fall shut. She'd change later, when her arms stopped hurting.

* * *

Weiss woke to a knock on the door. Startled, she glanced at the chrono by the bed – she'd slept for an hour. Growling, she clambered into a clean flightsuit and cracked the door, startled and annoyed to find a blonde head smiling down at her. It was Yang, leaning against the doorframe with something that looked suspiciously like a gameboard tucked under her arm.

"What is that?" Weiss asked, annoyed with herself for falling asleep and Yang for waking her.

"Quadrant," the Corellian said, pushing a stray hair out of her face. "I figure, since you spent time at the Academy, you'd probably picked up at least some of the rules."

She didn't have an answer to that. "... alright. New question: why are you here?"

Yang sighed and thudded her head into the doorframe. "Because when you're not eating or sleeping, you're flying, plotting new ways to practice-murder the trainees, or in a simulator. For the sake of my sanity, please do me a favor and do something to relax." Her pleading expression turned guilty. "Also, my last plan to get you to socialize kinda blew up in my face. Figured this'd be a more controlled environment."

Glancing from the board to the woman holding it, Weiss saw the stubborn look in her eyes and sighed. This wasn't a battle she was about to win.

"I should warn you, I'm fairly familiar with the game."

Yang shrugged. "I had a feeling you might be."

Resigned to her fate, Weiss swung the door open.

Twenty minutes later, she was scowling down at the little holographic figures on the board, teeth chewing on the inside of her cheek. She was winning ... barely. Yang had managed to put up more than a good fight,

"How the hell are you this good?" she snapped, trying to find a way around Yang's defense. "I didn't think this game was popular in the Republic."

"It's not. Although it is making a comeback," Yang lounged back in her chair, looking completely at ease. "My dad taught me. We'd play whenever he wasn't off on missions."

"Sounds nice," Weiss murmured. Her own father had taught her the game. Well, he had _had_ her taught at least.

She was lost in thought, trying to find an opening when Yang spoke again.

"How'd you get a trip, anyway?" she asked, looking bored. "I thought they only gave those out to the best of the best, or something."

"Trip?"

"Trip. Triple?" The blonde cocked her head. "It's slang for the Defender? You know ... 'cause it's got three wings."

"Ah." Weiss nodded, finally understanding. Something else to file away with the rest of the slang she was learning. "I stole it."

When Weiss didn't continue, staring intently at the board, Yang groaned.

"Come on. That can't be the whole story."

"Fine," Weiss snapped. She preferred silent opponents, reducing the game down to just their moves. It seemed Yang was not that kind of player. _I shouldn't be surprised._

"It is impressive how quickly a pilot will agree, when the daughter of a Grand Moff mentions she wants flying lessons."

"And?"

"And what? I worked my way into an interceptor training squadron, practiced until I was sure I could handle it, then arranged for one last 'teaching' flight with the Defender. The oh-so-kind captain was only too happy to give me one last lesson."

Yang snorted. "I'm sure he was."

"He was probably hoping to curry favor with my father." Weiss frowned, knowing that wasn't what Yang meant. "As soon as I had an opening, I shot out his engines, dodged the flight of TIEs sent after me, and jumped."

"Just like that?"

She shrugged. "I hopped between a few points to keep anyone from following me. Charted paths towards larger systems, dropped out of hyperspace at a predetermined point halfway there, changed direction. Once I was sure no one could follow me, I hid the ... 'Trip,' bought a small junk freighter with enough room in the cargo hold for the fighter, and made my way to Rebel-controlled space."

 _There._ The corner of her mouth twitched in a smile as Weiss found the opening she needed. Hands flicking over the game board, Weiss captured one of Yang's missile embankments, setting up her interceptor on a straight run for the blonde's base.

"So," Yang said, drumming her fingers on the table as she leaned forward to check the board. "Your dad really is Grand Moff Schnee."

"Yes, he is." Weiss settled back in her own chair. "I expected a cooler response from the daughter of a Rebellion bombing aces."

Without a second's thought, Yang moved one of her pieces to intercept Weiss'. "Nah. My dad was an ex-Imp too."

"General Xiao Long was an Imperial?" Weiss asked, skeptical. She should have heard if one of the Rebellion's fighter generals had defected from the Empire. It wasn't uncommon, much of the original Rebellion were officers tired of the abuses under Palpatine's rule. Still, most of those were fairly well known for their previous service, and she'd never heard of a Xiao Long in the Imperial Navy.

"It's not common knowledge. He changed his identity pretty thoroughly after he defected. Apparently, the Empire really doesn't like it when their decorated pilots defect." She shrugged, her expression pensive. "I like the name we picked, but Ruby ... she chose to keep her mom's."

"Why did he defect?"

"A lot of reasons. Alderaan was the last one." Old pain flickered over Yang's face, settling in the lines of her brow and her usually smiling mouth. "Ruby's mother ... Summer was on-planet when Tarkin decided to test his new toy. She died when Alderaan blew."

Weiss cringed. Not just at the story – in her short time on-base, she'd learned it was an oft-told tale within the Republic. Millions upon millions had lost loved ones when Tarkin 'tested' his superweapon on the planet. More than the story, it was the look on Yang's face that did it for her. She'd rarely seen the blonde lieutenant without a smile ... in fact, she couldn't really remember her looking anything but cheery.

Yang's expression was anything but. "There was the whole story about it being the Rebels, that it was an 'ore extractor' that got captured and misused, but he didn't buy it. When he found out the truth ..."

Her brows furrowed. The room wasn't cold, but Weiss saw a shudder run down her back. "I'd never seen him that quiet. The next day he sent Ruby and me into hiding and turned traitor. Brought his whole wing with him. Some of them had lost people too. The rest ... they weren't idiots. They saw what the Empire had done to their captain."

"I'm sorry."

Yang shrugged, looking angry. "Yeah well, it's not like we're unique. Anyone with ties to the planet lost someone that day. A lot of people lost a lot more." With a sigh, she sat back, the old anger ebbing away. "How about you? What makes the daughter of a Grand Moff join the Rebellion?"

Weiss huffed and gave up on finishing the game. "I joined the navy to protect people. I hunted pirates, glit-smugglers, the kind of scum who make others' lives hell." She shrugged. "One day, I decided the Empire was doing more harm than good."

Yang nodded knowingly. "And the real answer?"

 _I should have known better than to give her a line,_ Weiss thought, scowling. "How about this," she offered, leaning back over the board. "You win, and I'll let you pry it out of me over a _lot_ of drinks."

The Corellian met Weiss' eyes, her smile returning. "So never, then?" With a grimace, Yang cracked her knuckles and stared hopelessly down at the holoboard. "I'm definitely gonna need a rematch."

"Can I ask you something?" Weiss asked, after they both had made a few more moves.

"Shoot."

"Captain Nikos ... she's not human."

"Yeah." Yang looked up from arranging her defensive line. "And?"

"Well, is there anything ... _different_ about her?"

Realization flashed across Yang's face. "I gotcha. You haven't spent time with a Zeltron before, have you?"

Weiss shook her head. The Imperial Naval Academy wasn't human-only, but it might as well have been. In her entire time there, the only aliens she'd seen were the facilities staff – janitors, the occasional cook. Before that, she'd grown up on her father's skyhook above Coruscant, rubbing elbows with the wives and families of other Imperial officers and politicians. There hadn't been many chances for her to meet non-humans.

"Lemme guess," Yang purred, a sly smile creeping over her lips. "When she comes in the room, you start feeling a little weird. Heart beats faster? Chest grows tight, and everything about her just seems brighter? Suddenly you feel something you've never felt before?"

Weiss' face went red. "Don't be an ass." It wasn't as bad as all that ... or at least she tried to tell herself it wasn't. But there was still enough truth about it to make her cringe.

Yang tried to hide her smile. "It's actually normal. Zeltrons like Pyrrha, they give off these special pheromones. Makes most humanoid species find them really attractive. _Really_ attractive. Not ripping-off-clothes attractive, but a Zeltron on full-blast looks like the hottest thing to ever walk on two legs."

The small knot of tension in Weiss' stomach relaxed. "It's just her biology?"

"Yeah. Pyrrha keeps a very tight hold on 'em and uses some sort of special deodorant or something to suppress it. Most people aren't affected, but some are more sensitive to the little bit that gets out. And she can't control it when she flies – too much adrenaline. The techs have to let her ship air out overnight or wear hazard suits to work on it."

"So ... it's normal?"

Yang nodded and chuckled. "Don't sweat it. Like I said, she keeps it under control. In a couple days, you'll build up a tolerance. Knowing that it's just a biological response helps. And don't touch her right after a combat mission if you can avoid it."

"But it's not permanent?" Weiss asked. From what Yang had said, it didn't sound like it, but she wanted the hard 'no.'

This time, Yang didn't answer quite as fast. When she paused, Weiss looked up, startled, only to find the blonde staring down at the game board. "Just give it a week," she murmured absently as she moved her interceptor squadron into place. "You'll be fine."

"Are ... there any other species that do that?"

"What? Pheromones?" That got Yang's attention. "There's the Falleen. Kinda like lizard-people," she said to Weiss' confused look. "But other than that, I can't think of anything."

 _So not the c... none of the other pilots, then._ Weiss wasn't sure whether to be worried or relieved.

"Is there anything else I should know?" she asked, trying to clear her head. "I have to admit, I'm not used to this many nonhumans. I feel like I'm playing catch-up trying to keep everything straight."

"I can't think of any big cultural things to avoid. No one here uses a handshake to indicate unending hatred or anything." She looked up and smiled. "You're doing fine, Weiss. Better than a number of former Imperials I've met."

"Alright. Thank you." The former imperial reached down and moved her bomber into the space over Yang's base. "And mate."

Groaning, Yang sat back, hands held up in defeat. "Sithspit. Next time then."

Glancing at the clock, Weiss was surprised to see how much time had passed. She was even more surprised to find that she didn't really mind it. She'd expected to tolerate Yang's attempt at bonding and send her packing – that and make it very clear she had no interest in repeating the experience. She'd never thought she would actually _enjoy_ it.

Nodding, she rose to help Yang clean up the board. "Next time."

* * *

 **Writer's Note:** **If you can spare the time, _please_ leave a review, even if it's short or just a few words - the ones on the last couple chapters were great to read, and finding out about people's history with _Star Wars_ and the X-wing series was a blast.**


	6. Orders

**Chapter 6 - Orders**

"I trust you have no objections."

The white-haired colonel glanced down at the orders on her datapad. Everything was in order. Even if it wasn't, an order from an Imperial general wasn't exactly the kind of thing she could refuse. Or even object to, not after the news she'd received that morning.

Her face calm and impassive, Winter Schnee looked up into the general's eyes. How it had taken Imperial command two weeks to inform her of Weiss' betrayal was beyond her. She could only assume they'd kept it quiet out of respect for their father. Or out of fear for what Moff Schnee would do to them if they filed charges without his blessing. Only after he declared his daughter persona-non-grata did they issue her death mark.

 _And now it's come to this,_ she thought, glancing one more time at her assignment. She wasn't sure if it was a mark of trust or a cruel joke – possibly both, considering who was giving the orders.

"None, sir."

"Good." The portly general sitting across from her nodded, apparently satisfied with her answer. Folding his hands before him, General Lagune leaned back in his chair. He seemed relaxed, completely at ease in the stateroom he used as his private office. Eyes half-lidded, he lounged in his chair, a sharp contrast to the straight-backed woman sitting across from him. He was every bit the picture of a comfortable career officer.

Nothing about his appearance suggested that he had a reputation for being one of the more merciless commanders in the Imperial Armed forces. Or that he was renowned enough, and respected enough, to be given command of an entire attack force. _That reputation is probably what got him this command in the first place,_ Winter mused. _Someone wants a massacre._

"The _Deathstalker_ leaves it moorings at oh-six-hundred tomorrow. We have the _Viper,_ the _Beowolf_ , and the _Lancer-_ class _Ursa_ accompanying us for support."

"You're expecting starfighter resistance," Winter said, her voice flat. It wasn't a question. _Lancer-_ class frigates were designed to counter the Rebels' love of having snubfighters chew their way through larger capital ships. Bristling with guns, the _Lancers_ were a costly but effective replacement for the swarms of disposable TIEs many imperial admirals preferred to use.

General Lagune smiled slightly, drumming his fingers on the desk. "The Rebels have shown time and time again their ability to survive odds they shouldn't, with whatever meager resources they have on hand. When they lack capital ships, they make do with snubfighters. When they lack manpower, they rely on smugglers and criminals and nonhumans. They find the disaffected dregs of the galaxy and throw them against us like ants. Unlike some, I can recognize this as a strength rather than mere luck. They're adaptive."

His smile turned thoughtful as he turned in his chair, staring out. "More to the point, considering our target, it makes sense to anticipate fighter resistance. The _Ursa_ has a skilled captain and a tested crew. With a bit of planning, it should be like dropping a rancor into a nerf herd."

For a split second, his passive calm vanished. Lagune's mouth split, his smile wolfish, giving him the look of a predator quite happy to have weak and wounded prey beneath his jaws. "Remember, Colonel Schnee. This is about sending a message. The very real message that the Empire will not tolerate any aid or succor provided to those usurpers on Imperial Center. Even from the daughter of a Moff. This may not be Toprawa or Alderaan, but I want every single Rebel on that planet dead."

"I'll have my wing aboard the _Deathstalker_ tonight, sir."

Lagune turned back to look at her, his smile slipping away. Without it, he looked almost bored. "Good. Dismissed."

Winter Schnee rose to her feet, snapped a salute, and walked out of the room.

* * *

Rage filled Colonel Schnee's thoughts as she marched down the corridor to her quarters. A junior officer leapt aside as she passed, fumbling for the datapad he carried.

Winter ignored him and rounded the corner. She'd just come from situating her wing in the _Deathstalker's_ hangar – all 72 fighters and bombers. As the ranking officer for the pilots, she'd be in charge of commanding them during the attack, as well as coordinating with however many fighters the _Viper_ and the _Beowolf_ brought. She didn't know the ships – she'd need to request their pilot rosters, see what she needed to plan for the assault.

After she found someone's head to put through a wall.

Her march brought her to her chambers within moments. Keyed, the pad, she stormed in, and palmed the control to close the door behind her.

Her rooms on the General's flagship were standard officer's quarters – more spacious than the bunks kept by most pilots, but still conservative in their use of space. Tossing her kit onto one of the chairs, she sank onto the bed, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. Stress had a way of gathering there. It always had – a genetic trait, apparently, to match the family's distinctive white hair. Her father had it, her grandfather had it, her sister ...

Glancing up, she looked into the mirror set into the wall. Her tresses were still bound in its tight chignon, the only way to keep hair as long as hers within regulations. It made for a strong contrast with the Imperial grey of her uniform. It always had – and not just for her. The Schnee family had a long, distinguished history reaching back to the days of the Republic. Her father fought in the Clone Wars before being made an Imperial moff. Her grandfather had served for planetary defense forces before him. Generations after generations of Schnees had served the Republic, and independent planetary and regional forces when the Republic lacked a military. Uniforms and federations might change, but there was always a Schnee somewhere on the battlefield. There was even an old holo she remembered from her childhood, of a General Schnee from the Great Galactic War against the Sith Empire, over three millennia ago.

 _And here we are._

Sighing, Winter reached up to unbraid her hair, letting it tumble down the back of her uniform. All that legacy, and now what?

 _How could Weiss be so stupid?_ It was a question she'd asked herself a dozen times since the report came onto her personal datapad. She had a commission, and a good one too, considering how few Imperial pilots survived their first few engagements. _Why couldn't she stick to hunting smugglers on the outer rim?_

Winter sighed and tried to rub away her headache. There wasn't anything she could do. Not now. Maybeif Weiss had come to her first, maybe if the girl hadn't been so reckless, _maybe_ she could have done something. Arranged for a transfer, or a medical discharge. Talked her out of throwing her career and her life away, at least.

 _Lagune really does have a sick sense of humor,_ Winter thought and glanced down at her orders. _But lesser families have had far worse assignments and demotions given to revenge one single officer's mistake. This is the General's idea, the Empire's idea, of a second chance. An opportunity to prove that the Schnee family is still loyal to the Empire._

 _All I have to blow Weiss out of the sky._

* * *

"This is _supposed_ to be a Y-wing, right?"

Yang turned to see who it was and slammed her head into the casing of the engine above her. Star exploded at the back of her eyes, and she went flat on the ground, the most vehement curses she knew tumbling from her lips. She stayed there for a minute, trying to ignore Ember's whistling and waiting for the pain to lessen and hoping she hadn't fractured her skull while cleaning an intake valve. It would make for a very embarrassing conversation with the ship's medics. Clutching at her wounded scalp, she swore again and crawled out from beneath the ship.

Two sets of boots came into view, with the orange flightsuits of Republic pilots sealed into them. Scrabbling further out, she found herself looked up into gold and silver eyes – the gold confused, the silver amused and apologetic.

"Oh, hey." Yang took the hand Ruby held out and let her sister pull her out from beneath the Y-wing. Pushing her goggles up to her forehead, she started rubbing at the sore spot on her skull. No blood – that was a good sign. "One sec. Ember?" she called back to the yellow-gold astromech already mounted into the bomber. "That do it?"

The droid's hoot wasn't very encouraging. With a sigh, Yang turned back to the newcomers. "To answer your question, yeah, it is. Well, mostly. I've made some non-standard modifications over the years."

She glanced up at the old girl and smiled. They'd been together a long time, and the rows of silhouettes painted on the side proved it. No Death Stars or Super Star Destroyers in her kill count, but she'd built up a few Imperial Star Destroyers, corvettes, and frigates over the last couple years. Add in the ground targets and the enemy fighters and bombers, and it was an impressive collection of kills – in her opinion anyway. There was a nice line of TIE bombers and fighters, even a few interceptors. The first couple of fighters were even in red – a whole squadron's worth of ships instead of just the one. Pyrrha and Coco both had more kills under their belts – but that's what they got for flying the faster ships. _Means more of the capital ships for me._

Blake nodded absently, running her hands over the nose cone of the bomber. Her expression was unreadable – something Yang was learning about her new wingmate. Unlike the Corellian, Belladonna had the face of a sabacc champion. The most expressive she'd seen her was that night in the cantina, and even then, it was more of a grim certainty than anything else.

"What kind of modifications?" the Cathar asked.

Yang gave her a look, trying to tell if she was actually interested or just being polite. "Well, it _used_ to be one of the old BTL-A4 Y-wings, until I got my hands on some parts from a wrecked S3 model. I yanked the ion turret out of that and slaved it to Ember's circuits, then rehauled the engines to support the S3's stronger shield generator, added an improved sensor packet ... and you're not listening anymore, are you?"

The Cathar pilot allowed herself a small smile. "Bombers aren't really my specialty."

"Short version: she'll do a better job of keeping up with your X-wings than most Y-wings would. Even if I have to bribe the quartermaster whenever something breaks. And do my own maintenance. And the wait time on replacement parts is a nightmare."

She was surprised to see the corner of Blake's mouth twitch. Shaking her head at the ship, the Cathar turned to face her, an amused glint in her eyes. "What is it with Corellians and cobbling something functional out of a pile of rusty parts?"

Yang laughed at that, happy to see Ruby joining in. It seemed the younger girl had made a friend in the squadron – a good thing, especially if Schnee didn't warm up to her. Even better, if Belladonna felt comfortable enough to joke, even about something as ubiquitous as Corellian recklessness, it was a step up from the near-disaster in the cantina. _Good to see her starting to relax a bit._

"Eh, you know what they say." Yang grinned and patted the fuselage. "Never tell a Corellian the odds."

* * *

"She gets like that sometimes." Ruby grinned over at Blake as they moved down the line to their own ships. As much fun as it was to catch up with Yang, they needed to finish their own preflight checks before that morning's exercise. It was their first full flight exercise as a group in their own ships – the new x-wings had just arrived the night before – and the last thing she needed was a engine that failed to start up.

Something crashed into the ground, and Ruby looked back just in time to see Yang swearing as she yanked a hydrospanner off the ground, almost drowned out by Ember's whistling.

"The mechanics'll do what they need to, but Yang's always the one who has to hit that last thing to make her fly. It's her baby."

"With reason."

She jumped as a voice came from behind them. Heart pounding, she turned to find the red-haired captain smiling at them, just now finishing her own preflight inspection.

Ruby snapped a salute, feeling Blake do the same beside her. She hadn't expected Captain Nikos to be here, not _this_ early at least.

"At ease." Nikos smiled and started towards them, wiping a grease spot off her flightsuit. Leaning around one of the X-wings, she glanced down the row of fighters at the gold-painted Y-wing with the blonde head-first inside the engine. Her face split in a wide grin, and there was obvious fondness in her eyes. "That Y-wing has probably seen more action than most starfighters on this base. Her ship's been disabled a few times, but in all the time I've known her, she's never been shot down."

Nikos gave another look down the line, and had to cover a smile when another round of cursing echoed through the hangar. "She's used that bomber since she joined the Rebellion. It survived Endor, Bakura, Coruscant ..." She trailed off, and Ruby could have sworn she saw the captain's smile slip. But when she turned back to face them, Pyrrha seemed as calm and pleasant as ever. "That old bomber of hers can take a beating, but it always comes back stronger. You're lucky to have her as your wing, Belladonna."

The Cathar nodded, her face impassive. Ruby couldn't help but wonder what was going through her head – it was getting to be a bit of a habit. It seemed to be going around. She could _never_ tell what was going through Lieutenant Schnee's head, and she wasn't even sure what the look Captain Nikos had shot Yang was about. Or if it actually _had_ been anything. _Ten-to-one,_ _I probably imagined it._

To be fair, they _were_ old friends. They'd joined the Rebellion at almost the same time, fought in who knows how many battles together. Pyrrha had been there for all the battles she'd mentioned, stationed on the same ship as Yang most of the time, and more often than not in the same wing. The two of them and Commander Adel had been almost inseparable for years, and many of the messages Yang had been able to leave for her younger sister mentioned the two of them. _The first time I met Pyrrha was on one of Yang's holocalls. In some ways,_ Ruby thought, _she's closer to Yang than me. There's bound to be something I'm missing. For all I know, Pyrrha was just remembering some bad part of one of the battles they fought._

 _So what about that look makes me so uneasy?_

She wasn't about to get an answer. Pyrrha cleared her throat, and Ruby glanced up, blushing at getting lost in her own thoughts.

"Alright, I've wasted enough of your time. Do what you need, make sure your astromechs are ready, and be prepped to take off when the Commander arrives." Pulling off her work gloves, Pyrrha grinned at the two junior pilots. "It's time for your first flight as a squadron."

* * *

 **Writer's Note:** **If you can spare the time, _please_ leave a review, even if it's short or just a few words - the ones on the last couple chapters were great to read, and finding out about people's history with _Star Wars_ and the X-wing series was a blast.**


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